


kozume kenma's guide to divorcing supernatural persons (results may vary)

by skittidyne



Series: various guides to supernatural phenomena (results may vary) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (Getting there at least), Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Biting, Blow Jobs, Communication, Feelings Realization, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittidyne/pseuds/skittidyne
Summary: “What’s the internet say about all this sexual tension?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma’s attention snaps back to the screen.“Nothing I didn’t see earlier. It should lessen over time, but it’s meant to cement the new bond between mated individuals. Through sex, I guess.”(( or: kenma must navigate his new and unwanted werewolf marriage with kuroo, and honestly, it would be aloteasier if they didn't get boners every time they made eye contact ))





	kozume kenma's guide to divorcing supernatural persons (results may vary)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiouslylazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslylazy/gifts).



> (( beta'd by the wonderful [quinnlocke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnlocke/pseuds/quinnlocke)!
> 
> you'd _think_ this giant pile of porn is a christmas miracle, but you'd be wrong. this is a birthday miracle for the most darling purr in the world. happy birthday to purr, and merry christmas to all those kuroken fuckers out there! y'all valid as hell this holiday season ))

“What the hell,” Tora says, voice clear but image pixelated on the screen, “is _that_?”

Kenma looks around his room. It’s not any messier than it usually is.

“No, no, that— _thing_ on your neck! Turn back around, it looked like a bruise the size of fuckin’ Ecuador!”

Kenma, very slowly, raises his hand and covers the stupid bite mark Kuroo had left on him. He doesn’t want to lie to Tora—likes to avoid lying in general—but admitting it’s a mate mark from a werewolf he hardly knows does not seem like a good start to one of their rare conversations. Actually, admitting he’s accidentally married to a werewolf is a bad idea all around.

“Don’t tell me it was a vampire,” Tora says darkly.

“It wasn’t a vampire,” Kenma mutters, “just someone who got enthusiastic. Did you _really_ want to discuss my sex life? Because there are a couple other fading bruises I can show you—”

“That’s okay!” Tora hastily cuts in. His fuzzy image is kind of funny with its comical panic. Kenma nearly smiles. “It’s just, I dunno, been awhile man!”

“How’s Spain?” Kenma asks, and that’s it. Tora is off like a rocket, gleefully and breathlessly explaining the beautiful architecture and beautiful sun and beautiful language and beautiful babes. Kenma does smile, easing into it naturally, enjoying both Tora’s vivid descriptions and the enthusiasm with which he describes how his studying abroad has been going.

Tora kicks him off the call hours later, when Kenma is falling asleep on his keyboard, but all of his gruffness can’t hide the genuine affection as they bid each other farewell. Kenma smiles, and gives him a little wave as they hang up.

Kenma may only have two friends, and one of them may be abroad for another five months, but it’s nice not to feel lonely for an evening.

Before he heads to bed, Kenma checks his silenced phone. He has a few missed texts, all of them excited and affectionate and attentive. He would use the word puppyish if he didn’t dislike the connotations that carried. They’re all about their upcoming dinner date, with _very_ poorly veiled innuendos about afterward.

Three friends, maybe.

 

—

 

“Are you nervous?” Shouyou asks, though with smugness or sincerity, Kenma can’t tell. It’s rare that he can’t read someone, much less Shouyou. He must be distracted. “You never come in this early, and I thought you were going out to dinner with that werewolf guy. Like, tonight?”

“Pregame,” Kenma mutters and makes grabby hands until Shouyou takes pity on him and gives him a hard apple cider.

“You _are_ nervous,” Shouyou says with wonder.

“He’s texted me a lot,” Kenma admits around his drink. Shouyou buzzes excitedly. He’s starting to glow. Even if this bar is the only supernaturally friendly one in the city, Kenma sometimes doesn’t know how Shouyou has maintained his job here, with as much fairy dust and glowing and cursing as he gets into.

“What aboooout?” he asks, drawing the last syllable out for an inappropriate amount of time.

“A lot of stuff. He’s chatty.” Kenma has yet to figure out if it’s still some misaimed sense of apology for the whole accidental werewolf marriage thing, or earnest interest in having conversations with Kenma, but Kuroo is a _very_ prolific texter. He hasn’t done anything like ask for nudes or try any booty calls, though Kenma probably would have let him get away with the latter. He doesn’t know if it’s because after having a night of great sex has tripped up all his hormones and increased his libido, or if it is something tied to the stupid bruise that won’t fade on his neck, but Kenma has been unusually horny all week, since last seeing Kuroo.

It’s a lot to take in.

Kenma drinks more of his cider.

“Am I allowed to call this a date,” Shouyou whispers through his fingers.

Kuroo had already called it that several times, innocently unaware of Kenma’s general distaste for romance. “I guess,” Kenma sighs, utterly defeated. He can’t lie to Shouyou. But he hasn’t even _been_ on the stupid date yet.

“You’re going on a _date_!” Shouyou exclaims with another buzz of his wings. “I can’t believe _the_ Kozume Kenma is going on a _date_ , and not a blind one that I’m dragging you on!”

Kenma shudders at the memory of the half-titan Shouyou had tried to set him up with. It had not been a particularly fun evening for anyone involved. Kenma may have a laidback approach to the supernatural, and he may enjoy sharp teeth more than he ought to, but he _is_ still human with very breakable human bones.

At least being married to Kuroo means he doesn’t have to deal with any more of Shouyou’s horrendous matchmaking.

“Dates are too much effort. He’s buying me dinner, and then we’re probably fucking afterward,” Kenma says, but Shouyou is not to be deterred. If there were more patrons in the bar, he’d probably start announcing it to strangers if he could. But this early, it’s nearly empty. Neither of the usual bouncers are even here yet. Probably for the best, considering how much Kentarou eyes Kenma these days.

Kentarou’s refusal to let Kuroo inside, since The Incident, means Kuroo is too afraid to approach the bar, even without him there.

Kenma smiles at the whining text he receives, and bids farewell to Shouyou. “Time for your _date_!” Shouyou calls after him with much eyebrow waggling. Too much.

Kenma rescinds Shouyou’s permission to call it such, and tosses back over his shoulder, “Not a date.”

Shouyou hollers something else after him, but Kenma’s already at the doors. There isn’t yet a line to get inside, and only a few passersby, meaning it’s easy to spot the tall, wild-haired, and handsome man standing on the corner half a block down.

Kuroo looks pretty nice in a button-down and straight-legged, dark-wash jeans. He’s looking down at his phone, hair halfway in his face as usual, giving Kenma ample opportunity to study him as he approaches. Kuroo is, objectively, handsome. (Very.) Kenma’s allowed to feel a little warm about approaching a handsome person, right?

It’s a date in name only. Kuroo, for all his politeness, had made it _abundantly_ clear that he’s hoping for a happy ending tonight, and Kenma probably isn’t going to turn him down. Stupid new libido.

“Oh, hey!” Kuroo’s face softens into something frankly _inappropriately_ sappy when he finally catches sight of Kenma. His amber eyes go warm and soft,  his smile is less a smirk and more something tender, and he holds out a hand, clearly expecting Kenma to take it.

Kenma stares at his proffered hand like it might bite him. They may be werewolf married, but they aren’t _dating_. It’s a one-night stand that turned into something weird and convoluted and if there’s going to be any more effort involved, Kenma may end up hanging Kuroo out to dry, after all.

Though he kind of doesn’t want to.

Kuroo drops his hand and his smile doesn’t falter. “How’s your week been?” he asks.

“Fine. This bruise isn’t going away,” Kenma replies.

“Ah, well,” Kuroo hedges, rubbing at his neck, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It _should_ , after awhile, but… l-look, I’m new to this stuff, too, and I’m _really really_ sorry—”

“You owe me dinner, and that’s it. We’ll figure out some way to get over this,” Kenma interrupts, not unkindly, and Kuroo deflates from his panicked apology. His smile is now a little sheepish. It’s still horribly endearing. Kenma doesn’t want to be endeared.

Tora had called him a commitmentphobe and Kenma hadn’t disagreed, of course. Kenma doesn’t let people over to his place. He doesn’t go out of his way to get to know people he sleeps with. He likes food, especially free food, but dates aren’t worth the work.

“Right. Sorry. Again.”

Kenma sighs.

“But, uh, you like ramen, right?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma nods. “Great! I found this place down near where I live, and it’s really good, and it’s all you can eat ice cream, too!”

They walk side by side. Kuroo’s hand hangs between them, within grabbing distance, but Kenma keeps his hands in his pockets.

 

—

 

They’re seated at the bar, side-by-side, and it’s halfway through dinner that Kenma notices that Kuroo keeps sniffing him. It’s not exactly new, but Kenma’s not used to it outside the bedroom. He wonders how he can even smell anything over the food all around them, not to mention all of the other people. Most of them look human, but there is a couple further down with wings, so who knows what kind of olfactory cocktail he’s getting in here.

Kuroo sighs, sounding particularly dreamy, and rubs his cheek against the top of Kenma’s head. Third time he’s done it. Kenma almost thinks of calling him a cat, but he doesn’t want to invite more conversation about Kuroo’s sudden appeal to furries.

Kuroo’s cheeks are red. His eyes are hazy. Curious, Kenma rests his hand on Kuroo’s unfairly sturdy thigh beneath the table, and Kuroo jumps as if stung.

Kenma keeps his eyes carefully on Kuroo’s increasingly red face. “Are you alright? You’re distracted,” he says.

“I, uh.” Kuroo’s gaze darts around before settling on his mostly empty bowl. “I am distracted, I guess. Sorry, I’m usually better at conversation.”

Kenma moves his hand up his thigh. Kuroo stills. Kenma’s pinky brushes against the bulge there.

Without inflection, Kenma says, “You’re hard.”

And Kuroo’s head makes a _thunk_ against the table, narrowly avoiding his bowl. “You think I don’t know that?” Kuroo groans as Kenma moves his hand back down to reasonably safer distance from a dick his body is very suddenly interested in. “Sorry, I _am_. I’ll give you permission to make as many horndog puns as you want. You just smell really good, and then there’s the whole _can’t get off without you_ thing. As I’ve mentioned.”

“Only a dozen times,” Kenma allows.

He hasn’t had to deal with any kind of sudden scent kink, but the increase in hormones has been a pain, and he’s increasingly sure he can blame Kuroo for that. Blue balls all week had seemed like a tame and kind of funny form of revenge until Kenma realizes _he’s_ now sporting a semi in a crowded ramen bar for no reason whatsoever.

“I think we need to go back to your place and talk,” Kenma says as levelly as he can manage. He doesn’t feel any more aroused than before. Kuroo is nice to look at, but _no one_ is _that_ nice to look at.

“Is talk a euphemism?” Kuroo asks. He doesn’t sound hopeful; he sounds like he’s facing a firing squad. “Are we breaking up?”

It takes Kenma a _very_ long, _very_ panicked moment to realize it’d been a joke.

“Sorry,” Kuroo repeats.

Another reason Kenma decides he doesn’t like dates: too many apologies involved.

 

—

 

They’re both hard.

Kenma and Kuroo, both cross-legged and completely naked in the hopes of _something_ happening, stare at each other on Kuroo’s very comfortable bed. Kenma doesn’t remember it being this comfortable. He really wants to sprawl out on it—no, he wants to sprawl out on it, preferably with Kuroo on top of him—

“Hey Siri,” Kenma says, so he doesn’t have to move to grab his phone. He thinks if either he or Kuroo make any sudden moves, someone’s going to get jumped. Kenma isn’t certain how consent works in situations like this. Kenma isn’t even certain what _he_ is feeling, much less the panting werewolf across from him. “Google the side-effects of werewolf mating.”

“Here is what I found for you, Kitten,” his phone replies, and fuck sudden movements, Kenma dives for his phone with a furious blush.

Kuroo laughs like a donkey gargling gravel. He leans back on one hand, trying in vain to stifle himself with his other one, and Kenma is simultaneously affronted and endeared. Stupid. “Wh-What did that call you—?”

“My friend did it,” Kenma mutters defensively. Kuroo struggles to catch his breath while Kenma scrolls. He eventually flops backward, then, very carefully, extends his legs so they’re on either side of Kenma. One foot hangs off the bed.

Kenma finds himself looking at his long legs instead of at his phone.

“What’s the internet say about all this sexual tension?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma’s attention snaps back to the screen.

“Nothing I didn’t see earlier. It should lessen over time, but it’s meant to cement the new bond between mated individuals. Through sex, I guess.”

“My dick is going to kill me,” Kuroo groans, and this time, his voice comes out more seductive. Kenma had almost (read: not at all) forgotten how nice he could sound. “Do you know how frustrating it is to be horny all the time and not be able to just take care of it? I’m _really_ sorry, by the way, but I’m of the very firm opinion that this sucks ass.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. It was an accident,” Kenma murmurs with a sidelong glance at Kuroo’s thighs. He thinks he wants to bite them. “You know… It’s been affecting me, too.”

“Sorry—!”

“Let me reiterate: I’m a lot hornier now and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Kuroo pulls up his head from the bed. Both eyebrows are raised, and hope shines in every bit of his face. “Kenma, that’s almost romantic.”

“ _Not_ what I meant.”

“I tried jacking off in the shower this morning and all I could think about were puppies. Werewolves don’t even _have_ puppies! We’re both fucking dudes, anyway. Like, the kind with dicks, not the kind that could have puppies. Not that anyone can have puppies! Point is, I was thinking about puppies and trying to get off. That’s what my life has become in the past week. Can you blame a guy for wanting a bit of romance?”

God, Kenma _wishes_ that were enough to kill his erection.

He wishes very, very, _very_ hard.

The more he hears of Kuroo’s voice, however, the more interested his body becomes.

“You know,” he begins, carefully, “this lessens over time, but it probably lessens with, uh, contact, too. That’s what the comments on the article say.”

“You’re going to trust comments on an article on the internet.”

“I’m asking if you want to have sex, Kuroo. But if you _don’t_ want—”

Kuroo sits up so fast the bed bounces and his head nearly hits Kenma’s face. Kenma reels back on reflex, but Kuroo wraps an arm around his waist, bringing them quite close to one another.

Kenma blinks at him. In a rumbling voice as deep as a pit, Kuroo growls, “I would be honored if you still like me enough to fuck, Kenma.”

“Don’t use your sex voice for weird sentences,” Kenma replies, nose wrinkled.

Kuroo’s turn to blink innocently. “I have a sex voice? Do you mean the low, growly one? Because I’m starting to think that’s just a werewolf side effect—”

“You don’t know much about werewolves, do you?”

“I haven’t been one for very long,” Kuroo mumbles, cowed.

“Maybe an orgasm will help clear our heads.”

“I deserve an Oscar for pretending to be a level-headed person for the past week,” Kuroo says, and Kenma arches an eyebrow. “ _Multiple_ orgasms.”

Kenma watches, interested and aroused and expectant, and Kuroo cups his face in order to bring them closer. His hand is hot against Kenma’s skin, and while his breath still smells nominally of dinner, Kenma’s whole body is a steady chant of _yes-yes-yes_ at their proximity.

But instead of kissing him, instead of pressing them flush, even instead of some quip about _kitten_ as a nickname, Kuroo stares at Kenma’s parted lips and asks, “How do you feel about sex toys?”

Kenma tilts his head back and groans. “Can we get on with this already? I’m getting uncomfortable, and I don’t _care_ about sex toys.”

“I knew it, you _are_ frustrated with this. I knew it, I’m sorry—”

“I’m frustrated because you’re making a bigger deal out of this than it ought to be, _and_ there’s a frustrating lack of dick-touching. That’s a lot of frustration for me to handle in one sitting, Kuroo.”

Kuroo, looking like a kicked dog (Kenma hates the metaphor more now than ever), pulls away from him. Kenma has half a mind to chase him, just to get _something_ started. They’re not talking properly, both of them working with half a brain, and neither of them have easy answers.

Kuroo’s hand slides down from Kenma’s cheek to press, lightly, against the bruise from his bite. Kenma, eyes still narrowed, sits still and watches him. He stiffens slightly at the pressure on the mark. It feels good, but there’s a disconnect between physical arousal and what his brain is demanding out of this situation. His brain wants information. His brain wants to know why things have changed and how it can put Kenma back in his normal comfort zone.

His body, on the other hand…

Kuroo presses, just a bit more, and Kenma’s mouth falls open in a rough inhale. Kuroo pulls away at once, but he instead buries his face in Kenma’s neck a moment later. Kenma stiffens in surprise—and further arousal.

“Is this kind of foreplay part of your werewolf marriage rituals?” he asks.

“I mean,” Kuroo hedges, not exactly reassuring Kenma on any level, “I kind of want to bite you again, but I feel like that’d hurt, more than—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kenma replies.

Kuroo continues nosing at his neck, pressing butterfly kisses over the stupid mark that got them in this stupid situation. “Just so I know, are you like, an _actual_ masochist? I feel bad that you’re the one doing all the research for this.”

“You know how sensitive my neck is,” Kenma replies, accusingly.

Kuroo hums a vague affirmative before laving his tongue over the mark. Kenma makes a sound, deep in his throat, and his toes curl against the sheets. But he stays stock still and allows Kuroo to do… whatever he thinks he’s doing.

Kenma is a reactive person by nature, but he only realizes _then_ that this supernatural bullshit is affecting him in ways he hadn’t anticipated, either.

And while part of him (part of him he cannot identify) is digging the whole Frozen Prey Before Scenting Predator angle, most of Kenma is _quite_ against sitting still and letting Kuroo do as he pleases. Kuroo, when he pleases, accidentally marries people, after all.

And while their last rendezvous had been pleasant all around, there is much more ground to cover, and Kenma has _goals_ in mind.

So while he does not shy or move from Kuroo, he does ask, “What were you thinking about sex toys?”

Kuroo sits back on his heels like a well-trained dog. Kenma is going to have to rewire his brain to be more conscious of dog metaphors in the future.

“What I’m going to say next, you’re not allowed to judge me for, because I’ve been running on a lot of sex hormones and zero orgasms for the past week,” Kuroo solemnly begins.

Kenma rubs a hand over his bruise. It’s still a little wet from Kuroo’s tongue, cooling in the air. “If I were going to judge you, don’t you think it’d be after confessing to trying to jack off to _puppies_?” he asks.

Kuroo blushes. Attractively.

Kenma is not (yes he is) endeared.

“Okay, well,” he says, running a hand through his wild hair, “this probably isn’t _that_ weird, but this is something a little more… real, I guess? So I’d like it if you seriously didn’t hold it against me.”

“Just get on with it. I won’t judge you,” Kenma wearily replies.

“I _absolutely_ need something up my ass tonight, whether it’s you or a plug or whatever, but I also still kind of want to go all alpha male on you, because you seemed into it last time and because I also really need to fuck something, but I don’t have a fleshlight or anything? So I’m humbly, sincerely, and honestly asking if you would let me fuck you at least once tonight.” And Kuroo punctuates this with a bow of his head and clasped hands held above, looking for all the world like someone paying their respects to some higher power.

Kenma _really_ wants to ask, _Is that all?_

But he’s not feeling particularly charitable, what with all the frustration and work this is turning out to be, so he cocks his head to the side and asks, “You wanted me to spend the night with you again?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Kuroo replies, nonplussed. He peeks up at Kenma through the fringe of his dark hair. “D’you have somewhere to be early tomorrow? You can shower here. We could shower together, even, save some water.”

Kenma knows saving water is the last thing on either of their minds, but he likes the twin thoughts of being pressed up against a cold tile wall surrounded by hot water, and also of Kuroo washing his hair for him. Kenma quickly scratches the latter from his mind. _Too domestic_. He needs to figure out how much of this is Kuroo’s sappiness rubbing off on him, and how much is the stupid mated instincts or whatever the terminology is.

Kenma realizes he has let too long of a silence unfurl. Kuroo is beginning to look apologetic again, so Kenma quickly blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“If our bodies are trying to physically bond then I’d guess that refractory periods would be really short.”

 _This_ is why he thinks before he speaks.

Kenma turns from Kuroo, cheeks hot, and lets his hair shield his face.

“I mean, we could have the marathon sex you’re thirsting after, and still get some sleep, so I could probably spend the night…” he adds.

Kuroo chuckles, but it’s full of warmth, not ill humor. Kenma’s face feels even hotter now. “You’re really smart, huh? No sarcasm—I wouldn’t have thought about half the logistics you’ve already brought up. I’m beginning to think you’d be a better werewolf than me.”

“Please don’t take that as invitation.”

Kuroo backtracks so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash. “No, I at least know that much! There are rules to that sort of thing, and it’s really hard to do accidentally—there’s a whole lot of requirements that have to be met, and accidents are seriously super rare, I swear I didn’t—”

“Kuroo, it’s fine,” Kenma breaks in. Kuroo’s panic tends to make _him_ panic. But now he can’t help thinking about the fact that he _doesn’t_ know that much about werewolves, especially their kinds of bites, and that’s how he got into this mess. There are more serious things that could happen than weird werewolf marriage.

Kuroo hangs his head. “Sorry,” he replies, with a stab at humor. He fails.

But Kuroo’s little spiel has Kenma wondering _other_ things, too. Perhaps not other things that he should bring up while they’re both hard and dancing around each other and frustrated to high hell, but his curiosity gnaws at him. “How did _you_ become a…? You said it was recent, so…”

Kuroo nervously scratches his hand through his thick hair. He tries, very hard, to seem unaffected by the question; the note of strange vulnerability Kenma can detect makes him want to reach over and take Kuroo’s hand.

“Well, accidents are _really_ rare, but I guess I was just lucky in that regard,” he admits as though it pains him. “A friend of mine—the one that helped adopt me into the pack—has been walking me through things, and safety is a huge concern of his. So I got the Bite Talk twice a day for the first week and a half. Guess I should’ve been given the _other_ Bite Talk, huh?”

Kenma sighs, and tells him again, “Kuroo, it’s alright. I’m not mad about that. Sorry to have brought up something… bad.” He hadn’t anticipated an accidental werewolf, even if it explains quite a few things. Also unexpected: Kenma feeling so many genuine things for Kuroo’s clear distress.

Kenma shuffles forward on his knees, and he pulls Kuroo’s hand into both of his. Kuroo slowly goes red, blush spreading down his neck and chest. “I can’t believe this is turning into therapy time while we’re both naked in bed,” he admits with another frazzled chuckle. “And I definitely can’t believe you’re so good at it.”

“People like to talk when they’re naked,” Kenma flatly replies.

“Would you like to talk? About anything?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma squeezes his hand. “I think we have a lot to talk about. But it’s getting uncomfortable, and I think it’s alright if we have sex now. We can google things and talk afterward.”

“Oh thank _god_. I was beginning to feel like I was gonna crawl out of my skin with how hard my dick is!”

Kenma scrunches his nose at Kuroo’s way with words.

“I mean,” Kuroo hastily adds, “it’s kinda _weird_ to y’know, not… go down or something… while talking about stuff. I think it’s a proximity thing.”

“Are you saying we’re both going to get hard whenever we get near each other?” Kenma asks as he crawls into Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo shifts to accommodate him, and they end up seated chest-to-chest, Kenma’s legs thrown over Kuroo’s hips.

“It should clear out after we get past the initial _bonding session_ , right?” Kuroo asks with much waggling of his eyebrows. Too much. Kenma puts a hand over his face and pushes, then pushes his shoulder too while he’s unbalanced.

Kuroo flops over onto the bed. They end up wiggling a bit more to free Kenma’s trapped foot, but Kenma ends up sitting on his stomach. “Where do you keep your things?”

“Things?” Kuroo parrots back, rather uselessly.

“Sex toys?” Kenma replies with a frown. “I think the lube was in your nightstand, but if things have gotten moved…”

“Uh,” Kuroo hedges, and turns bright red again. Kenma stops his casual scan of his bedroom in order to direct his suspicion at him. “It might be in a pile, over on that side of the bed…? No, get that look off your face! I told you, I’ve had a rough week, and I’ve gotten creative trying to get off!”

Kenma peers over the side of the bed, and sure enough, half-hidden beneath a discarded hand towel is a literal pile of things relating to sex. Two types of lube, a strip of condoms, a plug, and what looks like two different kinds of dildos—including the box to one of them, right next to the pile.

Kenma sits back and spares Kuroo a _look_ over his shoulder.

Kuroo shrugs, still sprawled across the bedspread.

“Are these even clean?” Kenma sighs, and picks up the towel with two fingers.

Kuroo’s silence is guilty.

Kenma snags one of the bottles of lube and throws it at his face. Kuroo squawks and nearly kicks him in reflex. Kenma scoops up one of the dildos—vibrating, apparently—and the plug and pushes the rest out of the way as he slides off the bed.

Kuroo makes a pitiful kind of questioning sound. (Kenma staunchly refuses to think of it as a kicked dog noise.)

“I’m not going to let you be gross, and _I_ don’t want to be gross,” Kenma tells him, “so I’m going to go clean these and you are going to stretch yourself.”

“It’s not like I pulled them out of my ass and dumped them on the floor,” Kuroo retorts with a scarlet face. “I use a condom, I mean, it’s easier cleanup, and then I just…”

“Dump them on your bedroom floor?” Kenma supplies, eyebrow raised. Kuroo at least has the grace to look ashamed when he nods. “Get to work, Kuroo. I’ll be right back.”

“Fingers up my ass with no chance to get off,” he sighs, dramatically, and clicks open the cap on the lube. “Story of my life since last weekend.”

“A tragedy,” Kenma agrees in a flat voice.

He pads off in the direction of the bathroom. He does not explore Kuroo’s apartment, despite relatively free rein; his erection already aches in a very unpleasant manner, and he’s not a nosy person when it comes to people’s personal spaces. (He does, however, spare the squishy couch a sour look from down the hallway.)

With clean toys, and having combed through his messy hair a few times with his fingers, Kenma comes back into the bedroom. He pauses in the doorway, though, because as predicted, Kuroo makes a pretty sight by himself on the bed.

Kenma wishes he’d had the time to watch unseen, but Kuroo’s eyes flutter open, and he grins when he catches him. He does not stop, however.

He’s propped himself up a little with a couple of pillows, but is still splayed rather lazily across his sheets, legs cocked wide and two fingers already buried in his ass. Despite the awkward angle, his free hand is wrapped tight around himself, though he doesn’t stroke himself with much impatience.

Kuroo’s hair is beginning to tamp itself down with sweat and his chest shakes with uneven, gulping breaths. His amber eyes remain locked onto Kenma, however—in fact, that seems to spur him on further.

He releases his cock to dump more lube onto his hand, and then he plunges three fingers into himself. Kuroo’s eyes flutter closed and his chin drops to his chest with a loud, rough groan. Kenma wonders how much of it is for his benefit.

“Gonna stand there all night?” Kuroo asks as soon as he’s able.

“It’s nice to watch sometimes,” Kenma replies but makes his way over to the bed with toys in hand. “And so you know, I’m never cleaning up after you again.”

“My hero,” Kuroo says and raises his head, seeking a kiss. Kenma doesn’t deny him.

Their mouths meet sweetly—a soft counterpoint to the wet squelch of where Kuroo works below. Kenma takes control, and Kuroo allows him, opening his mouth for Kenma’s tongue. As he maps out the sharp points of Kuroo’s teeth, Kenma reaches down and pries Kuroo’s hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own.

Kenma takes incredible delight in running his hand up his length and finding the piercing at the tip.

Kuroo shudders beneath him at that slight touch, and Kenma swallows down his noises. Kuroo’s eyes have pinched shut, but Kenma’s remain open, studying Kuroo’s quaking reactions to every little movement.

 _Sensitive_ , he notes.

Kenma no sooner takes notice of Kuroo’s trembling thighs than Kuroo comes, cock jerking in Kenma’s grasp.

Kenma stares at him, both fascinated and more than a little surprised. Kuroo’s mouth falls open against his, silent at first, then breaking on a long, keening moan that would nearly sound pained in other circumstances.

Kenma’s hand caught quite a bit of the mess, but not all, and Kenma decides his mood is definitely _amused_ when he realizes that Kuroo had shot up high enough to reach his neck. “Good, good boy,” Kenma whispers, smoothing his clean hand over Kuroo’s sweaty face, and Kuroo blearily blinks up at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Kenma pulls his come-covered hand away and Kuroo, of course, has no desire to help him clean it up. At least there’s the sex toy pile towel. But the way Kuroo’s come sticks to his piercing is _pretty_. Pretty enough to forgo cleaning anything else. They’re just going to get messier anyway, right?

With a shudder, Kuroo eases his fingers out of himself. It seems like he’s mostly caught his breath now, though he lets out a breathless laugh as he tips back onto the bed. “There are no words,” he pants, “for how _amazing_ that felt.”

“I think that was the most half-assed handjob I’ve ever given someone,” Kenma replies. After a beat of thought, he adds, “That’s… saying something.”

“Best orgasm of my life,” Kuroo maintains.

“You seem like you’re still up for more,” Kenma says, and Kuroo raises his head again, looking down at his hard dick as if it’s a surprise.

“How about that,” he says, and flops back, boneless, again.

Kenma rolls his eyes, but fondly. “Do you want to take a br—”

“ _No_!”

“…Okay, then in that case.” Without further warning, because well, Kuroo’s still hard and Kenma can’t resist the pretty picture he paints, Kenma settles himself between his legs and lowers his mouth to Kuroo’s messy cock.

Kuroo’s hips jump against him and Kenma folds one arm over his stomach to keep him still. He tongues at Kuroo’s piercing, humming happily to himself; the last time they had seen each other, this was not something he had gotten to do. Kenma has fairly muted opinions about most things, but Kuroo has an undeniably attractive cock.

His come tastes bitter and the skin around it tastes faintly of strawberries, likely the lube he’d been using, but it’s fun to play with something while going down on someone, Kenma finds. He hardly takes more than the head into his mouth at any given time, instead mouthing at and flicking the steel with a lazy kind of curiosity.

“How much of this can you actually feel?” Kenma asks as he moves the piercing as much as he can with his tongue. This has more entertainment value than he’d anticipated.

“Enough,” Kuroo replies. He sounds wonderfully harassed. Kenma likes his voice like that.

Kenma feels around on the bedspread until he catches one of the toys, the plug. Kuroo helps by offering him the lube, but Kenma just holds it up, still entertaining himself with the Prince Albert in front of him.

With a shaking hand, Kuroo drizzles too much lube over the cold metal of the plug. It drips onto Kenma’s fingers and the backs of his knuckles. Kuroo flops back down onto the bed afterward as if this had been some monumental task, and Kenma hides his smile against Kuroo’s cock.

Kuroo shifts his hips downward as Kenma pushes the plug against him. Kenma pushes it in and out, just a few times, purely to be a tease. As predicted, Kuroo makes wonderful sounds.

But when Kenma finally presses the plug in so it sits snugly inside his ass, Kuroo comes again with a low moan.

Kenma startles at the first spurt of come against his mouth and, in pulling away, manages to make an even bigger mess. Most ends up on Kuroo’s stomach, but there’s plenty smeared against his upper lip and on his teeth and tongue. _Gross_.

Kuroo laughs, weak and breathy, as Kenma dives for the sex toy towel again.

“Are you going to be on a hair trigger all night?” Kenma snaps, voice muffled by the fabric against his face. The towel is already dirty, but it’d probably be more polite to spit the come that’d been in his mouth into a towel than anywhere else.  But it’d also be polite to warn someone giving you a blowjob that you’re about to finish on their face, so he’s not feeling very generous.

“I dunno,” Kuroo says. He sounds drowsy, or perhaps drugged. Strung-out for sure. When he sits up, it’s with an exhausted groan. “C’mere.”

“I don’t know, are you going to jizz on me again?” Kenma drops the towel onto the floor again. It’s going to need to be washed, and his mouth tastes nasty, and his face still feels sticky. He doesn’t mind giving blowjobs—enjoys it tremendously, actually—but he hates come on his face or in his mouth if he isn’t in the proper mood for it. (Which is most of the time, admittedly.)

“I’m soooorry,” Kuroo says with a weak attempt at a grab.

Kenma ducks away and slides off the bed. Kuroo makes a wounded noise that does illegal things to Kenma’s heart. “I’m just getting mouthwash. I think you’ll live without another half-assed blowjob for a minute.”

“Your aftercare sucks!” Kuroo dramatically declares and throws an arm over his face.

Kenma rolls his eyes, though he cannot see him. He’s going to get tired of going back and forth to the bathroom. _Kuroo_ can clean up afterward if they ever make it as far as sex, he decides.

This time, upon return, Kenma does not study Kuroo’s pretty, long-legged sprawl or the pleasing flush on his face. He flops face-first onto the bed and somehow feels exhausted. And still annoyingly hard. Maybe he should just jack himself off and call it a night, but he has the suspicion that Kuroo’s weird werewolf drama won’t let it be that easy.

Kuroo rolls over and molds himself against Kenma’s side, one of those nice legs thrown over the dip in Kenma’s back, as if to pin him.

“Hey,” Kuroo says against Kenma’s hair.

Kenma grunts into the bedspread.

“Are you actually mad at me, or—?”

“No,” Kenma makes the effort of replying. “Just tired. Confused. I’ve never had a partner so _easy_ before.”

Kuroo laughs. It’s that ugly, braying, too-into-it kind of laugh. Kenma is still very endeared. He likes Kuroo’s rough edges as much as he likes his unfair body. “I’ll accept being called easy, just because it’s you, and because I’m still all tingly. What do you wanna do now?”

“Why haven’t you passed out in a puddle of your own come yet?”

“What kind of rude lover do you take me for? You’ve been wound up, too, and _yeah_ , I want a round three. I want a round seven or eight, probably.”

“Then you can do the work,” Kenma tells him, mostly because he doubts Kuroo will accept it. Kuroo is fine taking control on a normal day, on a day when they’re not both wired and he’s not a hot mess, but Kenma still doubts it tonight.

Kenma, as it turns out, is wrong.

He is unused to reading people so incorrectly, but they are near-strangers, and Kuroo has a glint in his eye when he rolls them both. Kenma is on his back, Kuroo’s leg beneath him, and Kuroo’s arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. His expression is predatory.

“Alright, you lay there and look pretty. Not difficult for you, naturally, but I personally would like to see if you’re going to be as _easy_ as me,” Kuroo tells him.

“Doubt it,” Kenma replies. “Would be hard to be.”

Kuroo pulls his leg free from beneath him and shifts to straddle him. Kenma blinks up at him, processing. Kuroo’s dark hair has fallen into his face—more than usual—messy from rolling around on the bed and becoming lank with sweat. His amber eyes are as sharp as ever, and right now, totally captivating Kenma as Kuroo strokes him back to full hardness. He normally doesn’t like eye contact like this, certainly not during sex, but with Kuroo, it’s easier somehow.

Kenma blames that, too, on the dumb werewolf instincts.

“I didn’t come as soon as you touched me,” Kenma informs him, just a touch breathless with Kuroo’s hand still wrapped firm around him.

“I give you twenty seconds from when you get inside me,” Kuroo replies, grinning in a fierce sort of way. “Where’d the lube go?”

Kenma feels around on the bed until he comes back up with it. Kuroo retrieves a condom himself. Kuroo leans up on his knees over Kenma, reaching back to ease the plug out of himself, but he stops halfway with a grunt. Kuroo pushes the plug back into himself, breath leaving him in a rough, pleased sort of sigh, and Kenma watches with interest at the way his cock twitches between his legs.

He wraps a hand around Kuroo’s cock the next time he pushes the plug back into himself.

Kuroo’s voice comes out in a very harassed _groan_ of “ _Kenma_ ”.

It is precisely because of that tone of voice that Kenma keeps stroking him. Kuroo’s voice is addicting, all deep velvet, and his face as he shudders through his third climax of the evening is something Kenma is going to privately add to his fantasy list for the foreseeable future. His come is just a dribble this time, hardly enough to slick Kenma’s hand, but the way Kuroo’s mouth falls slack and his voice rumbles out points to just as powerful an orgasm as before.

 _People would pay for this kind of thing_ , Kenma can’t help but think. _They need to bottle werewolf hormones._

Kuroo kindly does not collapse immediately atop Kenma, but he does slump a bit, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He winces only slightly as he pulls the plug out for real this time. Kenma unapologetically wipes his hand off on Kuroo’s thigh, and his hand happily remains there. Kuroo’s thighs are nice.

“Are _you_ going to be able to last twenty seconds?” Kenma asks without inflection.

Kuroo grins. Now, however, he’s breathless and ragged around the edges and _competitive_. “Let’s bet,” he pants. With another grunt of effort, he leans up onto his knees again, and grasps Kenma’s erection beneath him. “First one to finish loses.”

Kenma has _never_ turned down a bet. It’s how he got into this mess with Kuroo, but like hell he’s turning it down now. He doesn’t care about the stakes, but he’s certain he can wheedle his way into earning some biting after the fact. So he replies, “You’re on.”

All of his earlier restlessness rears its ugly head again the moment Kuroo begins to sink down over him. Kenma’s fingers dig into Kuroo’s thigh and hip, and Kuroo appears to catch onto his impatience halfway down, because he _slows down_ even further. Kenma bites down on his bottom lip and refuses to comment. Refuses to _beg_.

But Kuroo is taking way too goddamn long.

It seems to take eons by the time Kuroo bottoms out with a smug smirk already curling up the corners of his mouth. Kenma thinks he’s made a few incriminating sounds, but worse is how _wonderful_ Kuroo feels wrapped around him. Tight, and hot, and _perfect_.

Kenma may have miscalculated.

He’s rather proud of his stamina on any given day; a reactive nature and a skill for dissecting lovers means he generally comes out on top when it comes to wrecking someone else. To be fair, this is not a given day, and Kuroo seems to take it as a personal affront (for _some reason_ ) that he’s three orgasms ahead.

As soon as he’s comfortable enough to move, Kuroo leans forward and instead of kissing Kenma, he goes straight for his throat. Kenma’s entire body sings an emphatic _yes_ , and it is only the small, competitive part of his prefrontal cortex that is in the angry, competitive minority.

Kenma is a lost cause as soon as Kuroo bites his neck.

He thrusts upward once, twice, and Kuroo bites into the bruise-dark mate mark, and Kenma comes like it’s a fucking button to press.

It’d been less than a minute, and Kenma is both horrified at himself and wanting more action _immediately_. (That angry, competitive part of his brain points out that he’s now lost a bet to both Shouyou and Kuroo.) Kuroo settles back on his haunches, still quite happily sitting on Kenma’s dick, and surveys him like a cat with a canary.

It beats the dog metaphors.

Kenma pants beneath him, and it is with little surprise that he notes he’s still hard. The condom feels gross, though, and not even the pressure of Kuroo around him can quite make him forget that.

“New condom,” Kenma breathlessly demands.

“You’re cute when you’re bratty,” Kuroo tells him with a cheeky sort of grin.

“ _New condom_ , then get back on me and bite me again,” he corrects.

Kuroo pretends to swoon. Kenma debates kicking him off the bed, but he now totally understands why Kuroo is on such a hair trigger, and he’s sort of in love with the feeling, too. His pride can shove it.

Kuroo ties off the condom and drops it over the edge of the bed (Kenma looks away and tries to scrub it from his memory) and pauses in grabbing the strip again. He looks like he’s going to say something, and Kenma dreads what he might say, but in the end, he holds his tongue. Surprising. But Kenma is glad they don’t have to try to have the condom talk when they’re still near-strangers and in the middle of very gratifying sex and definitely _not dating_. Fluid bonding is for dating people, or married people.

 _Normal_ married people, not their weird mess.

Sex is going to be very weird if things continue like this, but Kenma also wants to push it before complaining.

He shuffles backward, sitting up against the headboard and what pillows hadn’t already gotten kicked off, and when Kuroo sinks down onto him again, Kenma’s breath only catches a _little_. He grasps Kuroo’s cock, thumb against the piercing, and Kuroo tightens on him immediately.

“Got another in you?” Kenma asks as calmly as he can manage.

“S’not gonna stop me from trying, either way. You don’t get to act cocky now, _kitten_ , when you’ve already lost our wager.” Kuroo’s big hand comes up to cup the side of Kenma’s neck. Kenma can’t help but tilt his chin back for him, exposing more skin and half-healed bruises. More than an invitation.

Kuroo presses this thumb into the middle of the mate mark. Kenma hisses a breath out between his teeth, and he’s certain Kuroo could feel the way his cock twitched.

Neither of them are moving much, but Kenma’s body still thrums with energy that itches at his nerves, and arousal still sits, coiled and hot, in the pit of his belly. Every minute shift of Kuroo atop him catches his attention. Kuroo’s hand at his neck, however, is grounding enough.

“How do you feel about choking?” Kuroo asks casually, thumb pressing hard against the bruise again.

Kenma shudders out a breath, then shakes his head. “Not really for me. Do you…?”

“Never tried it. Guess it’s biting for you tonight.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kenma breathes, tilting his head back further, hair falling back out of the way, “god, please.”

“I wonder if you could beg.”

“I bet _you_ could,” Kenma retorts with zero heat.

“Let’s figure out this sex marathon stuff first,” Kuroo relents, “and we can get experimental later.”

 _Later_ , Kenma thinks, but it’s the last coherent thought before Kuroo sinks his teeth back into the side of his neck. Kenma moans, loudly, and clutches at Kuroo’s hips as he begins rocking against him. Clumsily, he grasps his cock again.

Kuroo’s sharp teeth saw into the skin at his throat, probably breaking it again, but the stupid _wonderful_ mark is making it feel about ten times better than usual. It isn’t a lead-up to a climax, but instead it seems to be making Kenma boneless, loud, and thirsty as fuck for _more_.

He isn’t sure what more there can be compared to Kuroo marking him (again) while fucking himself on Kenma’s dick, but whatever it is, Kenma demands it. At once.

When Kenma’s thumb presses against the head of his cock, just beneath the thick silver of the piercing, Kuroo’s breath hitches, a puff of heat against Kenma’s neck. He clenches reflexively, and Kenma makes a sound in the back of his throat.

This is not going to be a test of endurance so much as the ability to _keep going_. Kenma is up for that kind of fight, especially when Kuroo is making such sweet noises against the slick skin of his neck. When he pulls away, there is a bit of blood smeared on his bottom lip, and Kenma eagerly leans up to lick it off himself. Kuroo kisses him back with as much fervor as he’s had for anything else tonight.

When he comes again, it is with Kenma’s name on his lips and both hands fisted in his hair. Kenma follows him half a heartbeat later, unable to help himself from tumbling into release. It isn’t as overwhelming this time, just a burst of pleasure that he can feel all the way to his toes, energy finally ebbing out rather than revving him up for more.

Kuroo sags most of his weight against Kenma’s body with an exhausted, pleased sigh.

Kenma presses his hand against Kuroo’s chest, just to feel the hummingbird rhythm of his heart. His own probably matches.

He _sort of_ understands Kuroo’s disgusting laziness after they peel themselves off from each other and dispose of another condom. He’s exhausted and while he _thinks_ he could go another round—Kuroo still deems it entirely unfair—the mental fatigue is too much. Kuroo’s warmth and lethargy is a siren’s call. They hardly clean up enough to pretend to be hygienic before collapsing into a pile on the bed, on top of the messy covers.

They’re both sweaty and too warm, and Kuroo is cuddling like his life depends on it. Kenma decides he doesn’t need a blanket for the time being. He’s comfortable where he is.

“Thanks,” Kuroo mumbles against Kenma’s shoulder, from where he’s wrapped around him like an octopus.

“Don’t thank me for sex,” Kenma replies.

“I’m thanking you for a nice date and a nicer fuck.”

“That’s still sex, Kuroo.”

“…Tetsurou. You can call me by my given name, you know,” he mumbles, and Kenma is both touched and a little aggravated by the sleepy sort of affection in his voice. It’s _cute_. How dare he.

“You still can’t call me kitten.”

“That’s fair,” Kuroo says with a chuckle, “didn’t really want to, anyway. Kenma’s plenty cute.”

Kenma staunchly believes the way his heart somersaults in his chest is due to the sex session just minutes prior. He puts a hand on Kuroo— _Tetsurou’s_ bicep, and lets out a sleepy sigh. “Guess I’m staying over.”

“All according to my nefarious plotting. I’ve needed a cuddle buddy.”

 _Too domestic_ , Kenma wants to rebel, but he also enjoys Tetsurou’s proximity.

“And in the morning, I’m sucking your brain out through your dick,” he adds.

“ _Think_ before you say stupid things. There are better ways to offer a blowjob,” Kenma groans.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to be a shit,” Tetsurou hums. He shifts a little, resting his cheek on Kenma’s shoulder, and blinks up at him. Kenma only holds eye contact for a second before he closes his eyes. Tetsurou continues on anyway. “Anyway, now I can think without acting like a dog in heat, and I’m guessing you can, too. Talk in the morning?”

“Before or after the blowjob?”

“I’m flexible.”

Kenma huffs, fond, and nods. Tetsurou cuddles a little harder, somehow, and they both drift off to sleep, entangled with one another.

 

—

 

Kenma is woken in the morning not by Tetsurou’s mouth on him, but the front door slamming open and an annoyed voice calling, “Tetsurou, it _reeks_ in here!”

Panic fuels his response more than any rational thought. Tetsurou had never mentioned roommates, but what does Kenma know? They don’t know each other. Tetsurou doesn’t owe him personal information, even if Kenma would be curious (and it might be Important Information, in cases such as these).

Kenma seizes the blanket, mostly kicked off during the night, and flips it up over himself just as a stranger pokes their head through the cracked bedroom door.

He’s curled into a ball against Tetsurou’s side, completely hidden from view, heart pounding in a decidedly unpleasant manner. He doesn’t like the idea of meeting strangers while naked and filthy and in someone else’s bed. Especially anyone important to Tetsurou.

Tetsurou responds intelligently to the intruder in their midst. “Ugh. _Akaaaaashi_ , why.”

“Don’t impersonate Koutarou when you stink like sex and sweat,” the Akaashi person scolds with little pity. “Crack a window, would you?”

“What are you _doing_ here? It’s—” Tetsurou shifts, just slightly, and Kenma instantly cuddles up even harder against him. Tetsurou sneaks an arm beneath the blankets to wrap around him. “It’s like seven in the morning. I hate you because it’s seven in the morning.”

“You’re normally an early riser. I’m also on my way home, and you were on the way.”

“Why couldn’t you have _texted_?”

“I’ve been texting you all night. You haven’t responded.”

Kenma is glad they aren’t trying to do introductions right now. He’s glad that Akaashi doesn’t seem to require his presence at all. But this is not the wakeup he wanted.

“What’s so important,” Tetsurou whines, and pulls Kenma tighter yet against himself.

“I know how you can break a mated bond,” Akaashi announces like it’s no big deal.

Tetsurou shifts again, probably giving Akaashi some sort of look, and regrettably, Kenma peeks out from under the blanket. This directly concerns him and he’s _very_ interested in this information.

The Akaashi person looks very… rumpled. His curly, black hair is ruffled, his police uniform is wrinkled, and his eye bags are a little scary. He still does not offer a proper introduction, and does not ask for one for Kenma, and Kenma tentatively decides to like him for that, despite the literal rude awakening.

Akaashi sighs, and blinks slowly, as if he may fall asleep standing up. “You just have to avoid each other for a full cycle. I don’t know what the exact specifics of _avoid each other_ are, but just not seeing each other should suffice. You have a week until the next full moon, so,” and Akaashi pauses, looking at Kenma for the first time, “get this out of your systems by then.”

“Thanks,” Tetsurou replies, sounding both completely sincere and completely frustrated. He tries again. “…Thanks, man. I appreciate it. But we’re going back to sleep now, we were up until—”

“I don’t want to know any more details than I’ve already become privy to,” Akaashi flatly interrupts. He steps back out of the bedroom, and as an afterthought, adds, “Sorry for intruding. I will text you later when I wake up.”

“Yeah. G’night.” Tetsurou flops back onto the bed, and the bedroom door clicks shut. Kenma can barely make out the sound of Akaashi shutting the front door, too, and releases the breath he’d been holding. “So… Good morning, then.”

“I can’t fall back asleep,” Kenma mumbles.

“Me neither.”

“That was… a friend of yours?”

“That other werewolf friend I’ve mentioned? Yeah, that’s Akaashi Keiji. He’s a _super_ great friend, but he’s like… really intense about it. He picked the lock a few times when checking on me, before I ended up giving him a key. Sorry.”

“You apologize too much,” Kenma points out. Tetsurou laughs, lightly, and kicks the blanket back off them. They’re both sleep-warm and while awake, certainly still lazy enough to enjoy laying in bed together.

“Well, at least we have our plan of attack now.”

“We just have to break up.”

Tetsurou goes very still and very quiet.

“It was a joke,” Kenma adds, embarrassed. “This is fun, but I know it’s just a thing that turned into another thing.”

“Uh, yeah. That.”

Kenma knows Tetsurou thinks more of _Yeah, That_ than Kenma does. Kenma doesn’t broach the topic, however, because they’ve finally been handed their out. They just have to cut ties and not see each other for a month. It can’t be that difficult, right?

Kenma recalls the frustrated, restless energy of his newfound libido and the whining mess Tetsurou had been.

“A month is going to be _hell_ ,” Tetsurou groans, as if realizing the same thing. “Oh, god. I’m a once a day kind of guy! I’m going to cry, no coming for a _month_. Uh—not that it’s _your_ fault or anything!”

“You’re fine, Tetsurou. Akaashi did say that there’s still another week until the full moon, though.”

“Can we _handle_ getting it out of our systems? My entire body feels like lead.”

Kenma pats his bare chest in minimal sympathy. “You still owe me a blowjob, but maybe I’ll ride you afterward. You can take a little break.”

Tetsurou’s eyes shine with unfair excitement. Kenma imagines him with a wagging tail, then recalls that he _can_ have a tail, and hates both thoughts.

With great effort, Tetsurou rolls them, so Kenma is beneath him and he’s begrudgingly on his hands and knees over him. Interestingly, his bedhead is a mess in a different way than usual, more of it in his eyes and sticking up at all the wrong angles. Kind of cute, if Kenma were forced to have an opinion, but cute is the last thing on his mind when Tetsurou’s eyes smolder like that.

“What time do you have to leave?” Tetsurou asks, a near whisper.

“Not for awhile,” Kenma admits.

“Let’s make the most of the rest of our time together, then,” he replies, and leans down to kiss Kenma, open-mouthed and kind of gross with morning breath. Kenma can’t be much better.

But the bathroom is so far away, and Kenma is happy to let Tetsurou do the work right now, especially when he pulls away and begins to go lower.

Kenma traitorously thinks that he might _miss_ Tetsurou, when this is over. It takes the ticking clock for him to realize it.

He hates that thought, too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [kozume kenma's guide to divorcing supernatural persons (results may vary) [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854556) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




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